


A stranger in his own skin

by LadyOxymoron



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e12 You Are Not Your Own, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOxymoron/pseuds/LadyOxymoron
Summary: He was shattered as much as that glass and he wasn’t sure he could be put back together without losing some fundamental pieces in the process.Was Alexander one of those pieces?





	A stranger in his own skin

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet has been sitting on my hard drive for more than ten days. It might sound weird but I'm more nervous about posting this than posting smut.  
> I was going through the show again and as soon as I finished to watch this episode, a word document popped open on its own accord.

The night was peaceful, in direct contrast to the turmoil going on inside his mind. If he had been himself, he would have taken the time to appreciate the beautiful sight. The tall buildings highlighted by the soft orange glow of the streetlamps, the silver radiance of the moonlight reflecting on the metal railing of the balcony, the canopy of shiny stars above his head. He would have relished the soft breeze against his face and the low buzz of activity coming from the street below. He wasn’t quite himself though. He wasn’t sure he would ever be again and the light breeze was enough to make all of his hair stand on end, the shine of the stars looked dull, and the full moon seemed to mock him from above.

Magnus was back in his own body, a body drained of magic that he hadn’t used. He felt cheated, betrayed by his own magic for daring to let itself be used by that vile soul. He felt defiled, defeated, a stranger in his own skin, violated in one of the worst possible ways. It felt like he had been taken apart and put back together in the wrong way, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle forced to fit together even if they didn’t match. It was a grotesque collage, sharp around the edges, the missing fragments creating gaping holes that he wasn’t sure could ever be filled again.

He stared at the Brooklyn skyline, empty cocktail glass held loosely in his hand, the bitter taste of the beverage still lingering on his tongue, blending with the sour taste of betrayal in his mouth. He considered brewing another cocktail, then shrugged. He knew there was no amount of alcohol capable of making him forget. The whole ordeal would probably stay with him for a very long time, it was branded on his soul with the same intensity of the agony rune branded on his forearm. _No_ , not _his_ , he amended. Valentine’s.

It was strange, he thought. This body hadn’t been abused but he still could feel the aftershocks of the horrible torture. If he concentrated hard enough he could still feel the rawness of his throat. He held one hand up and he wasn’t surprised to find out that it was shaking. A wave of nausea cursed through his whole body at the sight and he doubled over, glass slipping through his fingers and shattering on the floor.

He looked at the shards and he felt a hysterical laugh bubble inside his chest. _How symbolic_. He was shattered as much as that glass and he wasn’t sure he could be put back together without losing some fundamental pieces in the process.

Was Alexander one of those pieces?

If he closed his eyes, he could see the distraught expression on Alec’s face when he had recognized he had been telling the truth, the pain in his eyes as he unfastened his bindings, and then anguish replacing the pain when he had realized that it could have been too late.

 _Magnus, tell me how to fix this. Just tell me what to do, please_. He had asked later.

 _You can’t_ , Magnus had wanted to scream. A part of him had wanted to lash out at Alexander, tear him apart, bring him to his knees under the force of his own desperation. In the end, he had settled for shaking his head.

He liked to think that if it had been him, he would have been able to recognize Alexander in every other body. Wouldn’t he?

 _If you love me, you have to believe me_.

He didn’t think he could easily forget the look of disgust in his boyfriend’s face. He knew that he was probably being too hard, a bit selfish maybe, but he was surely entitled to a bit of self-pity, under the circumstances.

The light breeze on the balcony wasn’t enough to justify the trembling of his body, he thought. No, he was sure the cold was seeping from his bones, chilling him from the inside. With one last look at the clear sky, he turned around and walked back inside.

The loft was eerily quiet. The familiar surroundings now seemed foreign to him, tainted with the presence of another man, an impostor. His feet brought him to the bedroom on their own accord and he lingered on the doorway, looking at Alexander’s sleeping form. Something wasn’t right though, the line of Alec's shoulders was too rigid, his breath too controlled. Not sleeping then.

Magnus climbed on the bed and Alec tensed, afraid to give himself away. Alexander was trying to give him some space but Magnus wasn’t sure he wanted space. He wanted Alexander to go away. He also wanted him to stay and hold him tight, give him some semblance of peace. He wasn’t sure he could ask for either.

_Magnus, please. What can I do for you?_

_Leave_ Magnus had wanted to say.

 _Just…Stay_. Was what had come out of his mouth.

Magnus settled on his back, afraid to close his eyes, afraid to relive memories almost more painful than the agony cursing through each of his nerve endings had been. He couldn’t afford to let sleep claim him, well aware of what waited for him in the darkness.

There were faces in the darkness, there were voices.

 _Monster_ , they said. _Abomination_.

Did Alec know what he really was? Did he want Alec to know? Maybe it was all reduced to fear, maybe he was afraid Alexander would find out the darkness inside of him and he would leave. They all did.

But Alexander had looked straight in his eyes, his real eyes, and he had smiled. To him they weren’t the mark of the devil.

_They are beautiful. You are beautiful._

Maybe there was still hope for them, Magnus thought, as the other man on the bed shifted, then the unnatural breathing resumed. Magnus’ heart clenched painfully in his chest, they were so close and yet so far apart. All he had to do was closing the distance and let himself be comforted, to comfort back.

Could he? Could he afford to seek comfort in the arms of someone who had bound him on a chair for execution?

 _Not you_ , a new voice whispered. _Valentine_.

Was this how hope sounded like? Could he dare to listen to it?

The chill was still seeping from his bones and he couldn’t help the shiver running through his body. The man beside him twitched, then Magnus heard a quiet sob, so quiet that he wouldn’t have been able to hear it if his senses weren’t so attuned to his Alexander.

_His._

Was that still true? It had to be. Even after all the misery he had been through, Magnus couldn’t bear the thought of his Alexander in pain, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

It seemed like his self-pity spree was coming to an end, he thought wryly. Maybe things would never go back to the way they were, but maybe they could patch up the ugly wound and the scar tissue would make the skin stronger.

It took almost all the energy he had left to lift his hand and place it on Alec's back, just between the shoulder blades. Alexander stilled, then his shoulders started to shake, as if Magnus’ touch was enough to make his façade crumble. Magnus’s hand moved upward until it found purchase on Alec’s upper arm and he tried a tentative pull. Alec seemed to melt into the touch and turned around without any resistance.

Soon they were staring in each other’s eyes, Alexander’s wet with spilled tears, Magnus’ bright with unshed ones. Alec held one arm out in a silent, hesitant invitation and Magnus, at last, allowed himself the luxury of some comfort.

There was no need for words, they would come later.

For the first time in what seemed like days, he finally felt some warmth chasing away the chill from his body. Maybe even some of the chill from his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, constructive criticism is welcome and feedback will be hugged and cherished. :)
> 
> I'm on Tumblr, if you want to say hi :)  
> https://ladyoxymoron.tumblr.com/


End file.
